


A Gift Fit For

by rackandhoney



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rackandhoney/pseuds/rackandhoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“In any case, a birthday is a trivial thing in the midst of war, don’t you think, darling?”</p>
<p>"No, I don't think. Not yours, anyway."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift Fit For

“Vivienne. Have a moment?”

Vivienne looks up from her book. _Vigorous Stormcasting_ by Kye Tamblyn, a senior enchanter from Hasmal Circle. A bit rudimentary, Vivienne thinks, and a bit of a bore. She lays the book by her feet.

“For you, my dear? Always.”

“Your birthday came and went.” The Inquisitor sits at the edge of a carved chair beside Vivienne. Vivienne thinks she has not seen the Inquisitor sit in a chair properly since the migration to Skyhold. Always ready to leap to the next task. “You should’ve told me. I had to hear it from Josephine.”

“I have to admit, I’m impressed she could cull that bit of trivia. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Vivienne rolls her shoulders elegantly. “In any case, a birthday is a trivial thing in the midst of war, don’t you think, darling?”

The Inquisitor smiles, unguarded, brightly. “No, I don’t think. Not yours, anyway.” They pull a thin, rectangular box from a pocket inside their vest. Vivienne watches the box travel to a small table between them. “For you. Open it.”

The box itself is a treasure, Vivienne appraises right away. Sylvanwood with silverite hinges and a silverite clasp. A lion head decoration catches bits of light on the center of the lid. The lion is a nod to Orlais, no doubt, but the box itself is dwarven. Vivienne traces the lion head with her fingers to be sure.

“Dragon bone inlay,” she says softly. The Inquisitor nods. “This takes a truly skilled artisan. Wherever did you find such a prize?”

“Varric knows some people. Dagna, too.” The Inquisitor lifts their palms in response to Vivienne’s dubious gaze. “I swear, I got it through legal means. And I didn’t use Inquisition funds. That’s not even the real gift. Look inside.”

Vivienne studies the Inquisitor a moment longer, then moves the box from the table to her lap. Her graceful fingers unhook the clasp and lift the lid to reveal a pair of golden spectacles cushioned in velveteen. Another dwarven creation, Vivienne surmises. Although she has read about the existence of spectacles, she has never known a wearer. Any healer worth their salt could remedy poor eyesight.

The bait is too good not to take.

“Inquisitor, dear, is this a jab at my age?”

The Inquisitor looks horrified. “What? No! Those don’t even have corrective lenses—”

Vivienne waves her hand dismissively, smiling. “A joke, darling. I couldn’t resist. Ah, but these are _peculiar_.”

The Inquisitor huffs a breath while Vivienne extracts the glasses from the box. The frame is thin, gilded. Both temple tips are unusually long and dramatically curved. A tear-drop pearl dangles on each end, creating the illusion of earrings. Vivienne swells with pleasure at the thought of the fuss they would create in Orlais.

But the most clever part of the design is the lenses. On the left and right of the frame front are two hinges, each with three, moveable lenses. Vivienne fingers each one delicately, flicking them over where her eyes would be, then flicking them all above the frame. They fan out, each a different color, texture, and thickness, like round feathers at the sides. The effect is both striking and strange. Vivienne falters for words. The Inquisitor speaks first.

“Here,” they say, fishing a round stone from their pocket. “Put them on and look at this.”

Vivienne balances the spectacles over her nose and slips the temple tips around the shells of her ears. She can hear the pearls swivel softly as her head turns. She slips each lens over her eyes, first the pink, then the green, looking for some small change in the stone. Finally, she slides the thickest lens, a blue one, over her right eye, and the stone is engulfed in white light. The transformation is so surprising that she splays a hand over her chest. The Inquisitor looks pleased enough to bounce in their seat.

Vivienne hooks her finger around the bridge to peer over the top of the spectacles. Without the lens, the stone looks as it should — simply a stone. When she pushes the spectacles back into place, the light returns. She looks around the room. Other objects glow brightly, including the grip of her staff. Her mouth hangs open, just a little, with understanding.

“This lens reveals enchantments,” she says. The Inquisitor claps their hands together, unable to contain their delight. Vivienne has a dozen questions, all of them vying to be asked first. “How did you — What do the other lenses do?”

“Well, that’s half the fun of them, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ll enjoy figuring it out.”

“Where did this come from?”

“I’d never heard of spectacles until Dorian showed me a picture in a book. Reminded me a little of the masks you wear in Orlais.” The Inquisitor leans forward on their knees, eyes bright with excitement. “I wondered if we could make a pair, make it a little more Orlesian, more like a mask. Something you could wear at court. Dagna helped me flesh out the details, then she crafted it.”

Vivienne tilts her head gently, side to side, unhooking the temple tips from her ears. She turns the spectacles delicately in a shaft of sunlight from the balcony, casting a rainbow of spots on the floor. It makes the Inquisitor laugh. Vivienne breathes around some tightness in her chest, pleasant and a little painful.

“This is one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received. I will cherish it.”

“I’m glad you like it.” The Inquisitor rises from their chair and places a warm hand on Vivienne’s shoulder.

“Your friendship means a lot to me, Vivienne. I’m glad you’re here.” They squeeze. “Happy birthday.”

Vivienne lifts her hand to let her fingers rest in the divots between the Inquisitor’s knuckles. She smiles.

“Thank you, darling.”


End file.
